


The Pleasure we seek, the Pain we hide

by UnproblematicMe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnproblematicMe/pseuds/UnproblematicMe
Summary: After the world almost ended and the failed executions Crowley can't help checking on Aziraphale now and again. He does so in secret as not to alarm the angel. But one night he sees more than he expected.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 134
Collections: Love and Lust Through the Ages Volume II, Top Crowley Library





	The Pleasure we seek, the Pain we hide

**Author's Note:**

> This was a story I wrote for the zine "Love and Lust through the Ages", Volume 2. I'm once more honored to be in a zine with so many great and talented people. This story is part of a collection (unless I failed at adding it) with the other stories from the zine. Please check them out as well.  
> The art to this story was made by the wonderful wargoddess9. You can find her on AO3 as [hikaru9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaru9)

Crowley did not blink often. But rarely were his eyes as wide open as they were in this moment. Right now he was outside of Aziraphale’s bookshop, but not at the front door. He hovered, black wings beating to keep him in the air, at the angel’s bedroom window. It was not the first time he had done this. Since the trials, Crowley felt even more protective of his best friend than ever before; so sometimes, in the night when sleep would not come, he flew to SoHo and peeked into Aziraphale’s chamber through a small gap between the curtains.

Usually, however, he saw Aziraphale sitting in his bed, reading a book or writing something. On rare occasions, the TV Crowley had gifted to the angel would cast its flickering light into the room, and on even rarer occasions, he would witness Aziraphale actually sleep.

But never, never ever before, had he seen his angel enter the room with damp hair, dressed in a bathing gown, slowly disrobing and lying down on his bed stark naked and legs apart. Never had he seen Aziraphale’s hand wander down his lush body, slowly but deliberately towards his manhood.

Crowley swallowed hard. As he saw Aziraphale on the cream colored duvet, he could not help but think that the perfect ivory skin would look so much better on the black sheets of Crowley’s large bed; that Aziraphale should be spread out like a feast for him, not for the dead poets in the bookshelves around him; that it should be his fingers exploring the soft curves of his friend’s frame, not Aziraphale’s own.

Aziraphale’s damp blond curls clung to his forehead. His eyes were closed in pleasure, his perfect teeth dug into his plump bottom lip and a beautiful blush tinted his cherub cheeks. His well-manicured fingers curled around a perfect thick cock, standing up proudly between his sturdy legs.

Crowley should leave. He knew he should. Aziraphale was his best friend and trusted him. Violating his privacy by watching such an intimate moment was no less than betrayal. But he could not turn his gaze away. Aziraphale was so beautiful like this. He was always beautiful, of course. But right now, so exposed, so vulnerable, so unrestrained, he was simply irresistible.

Muffled, the demon could hear Aziraphale’s soft moans through the glass. This sound and the whole sight sent a spike of arousal through his body and he almost fell to the pavement as he nearly forgot to keep his wings flapping. The erection straining against his tight pants proved to be distracting, but after struggling a bit, he managed to keep his position.

Fully aware how wrong and boundary breaking it was, Crowley opened his fly and pulled his own cock free, never taking his eyes off Aziraphale. Guilt and excitement washed over him as he teased his member to full hardness, slicked it with a miracle, and started stroking. Wishing it was another’s hand, he worked his length, feeling his climax nearing embarrassingly fast.

But that was not Crowley’s fault: Aziraphale just looked divine. His usually pale skin was flushed, drops of sweat leaving glittering traces. While his right hand stimulated his cock, his left wandered between his ass cheeks. A moan escaped Crowley when Aziraphale pushed a finger into himself, working his hole open. Aziraphale threw his head back into the pillows as he stroked his erection in abandon while fucking himself with his finger. His eyes were pressed shut and his lips were slightly parted, lovely sighs and moans falling from them. A shining pearl of precum gathered at the tip of his member and Crowley longed to lick it away.

When Aziraphale beautifully arched his back, cried out in pleasure and spilled white ropes of semen over his hand, Crowley’s climax followed suit. His wings stuttered and he lost height, almost crashing down to the street below. Pathetically, he clung to the window sill with his soiled hand while he tried to catch his breath.

Slowly, the post-orgasmic bliss faded away. Crowley’s ability to think clearly returned and with it shame and guilt. After evening out the movement of his wings, he cleaned his hand and zipped up his pants. Sighing, he decided to fly home, but wanted to steal one more look at his angel.

What he saw broke his heart. Crowley had expected Aziraphale to be relaxed, happy, maybe already drifting into a peaceful sleep. But his best friend had curled himself into a ball, his whole body trembling. Aziraphale was crying!

It took all of Crowley’s willpower and self-control not to burst through the window. Every fiber of his being screamed to comfort Aziraphale and burn the reason for his sadness.

But he could not do that without giving himself away. And whatever made Aziraphale sad, it would not help to add the knowledge that his oldest friend had betrayed his trust. Crowley put his hand against the glass between Aziraphale and himself, longing to touch Aziraphale instead. Right now, he could not do anything, so he returned to his home with a heavy heart.

Crowley had invited himself over to Aziraphale’s shop, bearing gifts. Surprised, Aziraphale had accepted wine and sushi and gestured Crowley in.

Here they were, sitting on Aziraphale’s couch, both sushi trays in their laps. Aziraphale was prattling on about a novel he had read yesterday and Crowley tried to listen, but the demon had a hard time focusing. The soft voice of his companion reminded him of the lustful sighs and moans he had heard in said voice. He could not watch the movement of the pink lips without thinking about how prettily they parted to release a cry of pleasure. It was impossible to watch Aziraphale gesture with his hands without picturing the fingers wrapped around his cock or pushed up his ass.

But the biggest problem was that he could not shake off the image of Aziraphale lying in his bed, sobbing and clinging to his pillow. The whole night he had thought about it. Whatever problem Aziraphale had, he probably would go to Crowley, unless he was ashamed. That, and the fact that the angel had cried after jerking off, had Crowley suspect that somehow the angel was lovelorn. They spent a lot of time together, but Crowley was not with Aziraphale 24/7, so the angel would have some room for (unhappy) romances. Crowley fought off the burning jealousy for any suitors Aziraphale might have. He needed to focus and find out what was wrong, without Aziraphale noticing that he already _knew_ something was wrong. And especially without giving away _how_ he knew it.

He saw his chance when Aziraphale ended his rant about the book he had read.

“The writing style was pleasant but the plot predictable,” he sighed. “Just another love story.”

“Hah, yeah. Love, huh?” Crowley moved the topic awkwardly. “People really act weird because of love, right?”

“Erm, I suppose? Sometimes,” Aziraphale answered, visibly confused.

“Sometimes?” Crowley repeated incredulously. “All the time! How many people lose sleep and shed tears over someone who doesn’t deserve them?”

“I… don’t know. Maybe…”

“A lot of people, angel,” Crowley went on. “And they shouldn’t. It’s stupid, right?”

Aziraphale’s face took on an inscrutable expression.

“I’m not sure, dear,” he said quietly. “Love has no on/off switch.”

“Yes, yes, true,” Crowley stammered. “But…”

“And that other person is not necessarily undeserving, are they?” Aziraphale continued, a bit of melancholia in his voice. “Maybe they just don’t feel the same.”

“Right.” Crowley bit his lip. Could that be it? He had not expected this. Aziraphale was perfect. How could anyone not love him back? Was it not a romance gone wrong but just unrequited affection? Aziraphale had fallen uncharacteristically silent. Maybe Crowley had hit a nerve, so he continued.

“Still,” he said. “No use to dwell on it. If I’m not appreciated, I move on. Find someone more suitable who deserves and appreciates me.”

“Sounds reasonable, yes,” Aziraphale nodded.

“Oh, and meanwhile one should not try to deal with this alone,” Crowley added with more confidence than he felt. “One should turn to a friend, a… a good friend. Ideally, a long-term friend. Someone who knows them, who can help. If one has a good trustworthy friend, there is no need to mourn a hopeless love or… cry yourself to sleep. A sorrow shared and all that.”

Pointedly, he looked at Aziraphale, praying he had said enough but not too much. Aziraphale’s face gave nothing away. He pushed his last piece of maki into his mouth, chewing in silence. Crowley worried his lip between his teeth, thinking very hard about another approach to try.

After a while, Aziraphale cleared his throat and stole Crowley’s untouched sushi.

“I’m not really surprised you’re not hungry,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Since you apparently ate several self-help books for breakfast.”

“What?” Crowley asked.

“I mean, all your wise words on relationships and their failure,” Aziraphale chuckled, but when Crowley stared at him in confusion, he sighed: “I know what’s going on, dear.”

“You do?” Crowley asked, scared and hopeful.

“Of course. No need to beat around the tree.”

“Bush, Aziraphale, bush.”

“Right,” Aziraphale said. “Anyway, you obviously tried romancing someone and got hurt. Now you try to reason with yourself that you are better off without that person. And I absolutely agree. If they do not appreciate you, they don’t deserve you and you should move on.”

“Aziraphale, I…”

“Don’t worry, Crowley, you are also correct with your assumption that I will be here for you.”

“But I…”

“And yes, you will one day find someone else,” Aziraphale said, a bit too happy. “Someone who is a better match for you.”

“Angel,…”

“No need to be ashamed.”

“Aziraphale, for fuck’s sake, shut up!” Crowley jumped to his feet, throwing his hands up in frustration. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. This isn’t about me, it’s about you!”

Dumbfounded Aziraphale stared at Crowley. He put away the tray on his lap and stood up as well, positioning himself right in front of Crowley.

“What do you mean?” he wanted to know. “What about me?”

Crowley cursed himself. Aziraphale’s pretty blue eyes lay on him, observant, searching, inquiring. What now? He could hardly say: _I watched you masturbate last night, saw how you cried afterwards, and now I’m worried._

“Crowley?”

“I watched you masturbate last night, saw how you cried afterwards, and now I’m worried!” Crowley burst out.

Aziraphale’s mouth fell shut and his lids fluttered as he processed what Crowley had said.

“You what?” he whispered.

“I’m so sorry, angel. I didn’t mean to. Sometimes, at night, I check on you. To reassure myself. But yesterday…”

“You saw more than you expected,” Aziraphale finished dryly.

“Yes,” Crowley admitted. “And you cried when you… well, after. So I thought _you_ were somehow lovelorn.”

“I see.”

“Look, Aziraphale. I get that you probably hate me now, but before you kick me out, tell me you are okay, because seeing you cry like this…”

“I could never hate you.” Aziraphale said quietly as he turned away. “And you’re right. I _am_ lovelorn. Sometimes I pleasure myself, thinking of him,” his voice broke a little, “but when it’s over, I remember that he doesn’t want me.”

“That’s what I meant,” Crowley said quickly. “You shouldn’t cry over someone who doesn’t appreciate you. Who is this idiot? How do you even know such a moron?”

Aziraphale made a noise between a chuckle and a sob.

“He is my oldest friend,” he answered in a defeated voice.

Now Crowley needed a few seconds before the information sunk in.

“Angel,” he breathed out. “I…”

“I know you don’t see me like this.” Aziraphale, with tears in his eyes, forced himself to smile. “I didn’t plan on ever telling you. But now it’s out.”

“Aziraphale…”

“And I’m sorry if you are uncomfortable now that you know what I think about when I… you know…”

“Yes, I know, but…”

“Then again, nobody forced you to spy on me…”

“No, that’s on me, however…”

“I understand if you need some distance.”

“Well…”

“But I don’t want to lose y…”

With an annoyed growl, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s shoulders, pulled the angel close and kissed him. It was sweet and chaste, but Aziraphale moaned, surprised, against his lips and so it was enough for Crowley. When they broke apart, the demon smiled tenderly.

“So, that’s how to shut you up,” he said softly.

“Crowley, I… really liked that,” Aziraphale said hesitantly. “But I don’t need your pity.” 

At that, Crowley did not know whether to laugh or to scream. So he just stared at Aziraphale for several long seconds.

“My pity?” he finally exclaimed. “No, you really don’t! You are indeed not the one needing pity! After all, you’re not the one who almost crash-landed because you wanked in the air!”

“Excuse me?”

An exasperated laugh escaped Crowley as he leant his forehead against Aziraphale’s.

“Hard to explain,” he sighed. “But I swear this is not pity. I want you, badly. For many lifetimes I have wanted you.”

Relieved, Crowley watched how the smile on Aziraphale’s face finally reached his eyes. For a while they just gazed at one another, running their hands tenderly through each other’s hair.

“So,” a blushing Aziraphale broke the silence in the end, “will you stay? Tonight, I mean?”

“I really don’t want to wait for nightfall, angel,” Crowley said.

*

Gently, Crowley laid Aziraphale down on the mattress. Again it was the angel’s bed, not his own expensive one with the elegant dark sheets, but Crowley found that he cared much less now that Aziraphale was in his arms.

Carefully, as if Aziraphale could break, Crowley sat up to undress him. Thankfully, Aziraphale had divested himself of the waistcoat, but there were enough layers of clothing left, hiding the soft skin Crowley longed for. With strained patience, he removed the ridiculously endearing bow tie before unbuttoning the shirt. He was just about to push the fabric aside when it disappeared - and not only the shirt. Looking down the angel’s body, Crowley found him stark naked.

Amused, the demon raised a brow.

“Well, we waited so long already.” Aziraphale smiled sheepishly. “Besides, after last night there is no surprise hidden here for you and…”

Crowley kissed him deeply, forked tongue sliding easily into Aziraphale’s mouth. The angel went pliant in Crowley’s hold, allowing him to explore, to conquer. The demon’s hands found their way into Aziraphale’s blond curls again, tugging lightly. A moan escaped the angel and Crowley smirked.

“You like that, hmm?” he teased and chuckled when his lover blushed.

“It seems that I do,” Aziraphale answered, trying to sound prim and proper but failing spectacularly due to his ragged breath.

Again his skin started to flush and Crowley felt a surge of pride that this time _he_ was the reason for it. He pulled at Aziraphale’s hair once more to hear that lovely sound again while he resumed the kiss.

Shyly, Aziraphale’s right hand wandered to Crowley’s crotch. Remarkably fast he unbuttoned the fly and slid his hand into the tight pants. It was the softest touch, but Crowley’s body reacted as if hit by lighting. He tensed, groaned, swayed into the touch and deepened their kiss even more. If Aziraphale kept that up, things would end fast. But he wanted to explore Aziraphale because he had been denied last night.

Quickly, he seized Aziraphale’s wrists and pinned them to the mattress at eye level.

“Keep them there,” he demanded.

Aziraphale swallowed nervously but nodded. He obeyed the command, even as Crowley let go off his hands, and watched with rapt attention how Crowley nudged his broad legs apart to slide between them.

Crowley took his sweet time. He draped himself over Aziraphale’s welcoming body. Sighing contentedly, he buried his nose in the crook of his partner’s neck and breathed in the heavenly scent. With his lips and tongue he worshipped the sensitive skin of the milky white throat, now and again scraping his teeth along the slope between neck and shoulder. Aziraphale’s hands twitched ever so often, but he kept them beside his head as Crowley wished.

Smirking proudly, the demon decided to test Aziraphale’s patience a bit more. His hands roamed over the broad chest and the curve of the belly, stroking along the hips and thighs, nearing Aziraphale’s crotch from different angles again and again, but always stopping short of touching his cock. The first few times, Aziraphale just pouted a bit. But with every almost-touch he wiggled around more, chasing contact that Crowley would not grant. Chuckling, the demon slapped lightly against one milky thigh and Aziraphale stopped moving. Instead, he settled for impatient whining and moaning whenever Crowley approached, but then neglected, his manhood.

Finally, Crowley had mercy – both with Aziraphale and himself. So he willed a bottle of lube into existence and generously slicked his fingers.

Helplessly, Aziraphale moaned and threw his head back in pleasure when one long finger of Crowley’s right hand entered him, and while the left circled around his throbbing cock. Crowley bit his lip and growled possessively as he watched part of his body conquer Aziraphale’s, and the angel desperately bucking into his touches. Crowley felt the cock in his hand twitch while he carefully loosened up the puckered entrance.

Aziraphale was groaning, throwing his head from side to side and a litany of “please” fell from his lips. Unable and unwilling to deny him any longer, Crowley miracled away his clothes, lined his cock up with Aziraphale’s entrance, and slowly pushed in.

Aziraphale cried out in pleasure, arching his back. Encouraged, Crowley started to move, increasing the pace with every thrust. Part of him still could not believe he was fucking Aziraphale, and it made his movements all the more erratic.

Fortunately, Aziraphale did not seem to mind. He was less than coherent, but his desires were clear. Crowley did not last long. The sight, the sounds, the heat, the velvet walls gripping his cock - and not to forget the 6000 years of longing - took their toll and his hips began to stutter. Quickly, he worked Aziraphale’s cock again. It only took four languid strokes for Aziraphale to cry out and clench around Crowley, drawing an intense orgasm out of him. He spilled his essence deep into his lover with a low growl.

After catching his breath, Crowley rolled off Aziraphale and pulled him into his arms.

“I love you,” Crowley breathed out.

“I love you, too,” came the mumbled answer.

With raised eyebrows, Crowley looked at Aziraphale. Smirking smugly, he saw that his lover had drifted to sleep. In the corner of the angel’s eyes he saw something glistening. He collected the single drop with his thumb and studied Aziraphale. He looked relaxed, a sweet smile on his lips and sleeping trustfully in Crowley’s arms.

Crowley kissed his temple. He swore to himself that happy tears were the only kind of tear Aziraphale would ever cry again.

The End


End file.
